My Holy Sights

Seen and Hurd in the Holy Land

By Nathaniel Hurd

<< Read Part 1

Leaving behind those men, I went to Bethany-Beyond-the-Jordan, where John the Baptist baptized Jesus. The only way to get to the site was in a minibus and with a guide, because the area is so close to the West Bank, which Israel has occupied since the 1967 Arab-Israeli War, and the Jordanian government does not want tourists wandering. We passed the hill where the prophet Elijah was taken up to heaven “in a whirlwind”, as reported in the second chapter of 2 Kings, and stopped in front of three churches being built, Armenian, Catholic and Coptic. Our guide took us on dirt paths, through woods and with a few stops at open areas near the Jordan River.

The Jordan River. I had heard its name when I was an atheist and agnostic. As a Catholic, I had seen it through Scripture. This was the first time that I had been near it and I was underwhelmed. The river in my mind had been wide and clear. The river that I saw was narrow and muddy. Still, my excitement began to run with the river, as I thought about going to the site of the Baptism and into the water.

When we arrived at the spot, the guide talked. I heard his voice but not his words, because I was staring at the small strip of water, imaging myself among the crowds watching Jesus and John. The guide and group moved on and so I began to proclaim and pray over the two main reports of the Baptism, the third chapters of the Gospels of Matthew and Luke.

People of Jerusalem and Judea had acknowledged their sins and asked John to baptize them with water. John told them that Jesus would come and baptize them with the Holy Spirit. Jesus was sinless but still told John to baptize Him, to show His humanity, to announce His mission to erase our sins and remind us that Baptism is the first step to being His disciple. Two thousand years later, I had admitted my sins and was baptized with the Holy Spirit in the name of Jesus, claimed for and cleaned by Christ, the one who takes away the sins of the world.

Voices

I finished Matthew and was part way through Luke, when I heard a voice. It was not the voice of God saying “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” No, it was the voice of my guide, displeased that I was lingering and yelling that it was time to go. I shouted back “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.” The guide insisted “No. This is a military zone.” He was unintentionally reminding me that we have failed Jesus, all of us. This place of grace was patrolled by people with guns, in the middle of a region still struggling for a lasting, fair peace.

We walked on, past an Orthodox Church and down a dock over the Jordan River. Rope had circled the Baptismal site to keep it from being trampled and so this was my only opportunity to be in the water. I took off my shoe and socks, rolled up my jeans and then remembered that I had failed to

bring a bottle to fill with the river. The guide said we had only 15 minutes.

Remembering my countless times as an athlete competing with the clock, I quickly stuffed my bare feet into my shoes, ran up to the shack selling bottled water, bought and drained the bottle with a few gulps and sprinted back to the dock. Then slowly and reverently, as if I was approaching an altar or the Blessed Sacrament, I walked down the steps and into the water.

The water gave me a chilly greeting and I replied with my warmest smile. How could I not grin? I was a Catholic, baptized and confirmed as part of His one living body, his Church, up to my knees in the water in which Jesus the Baptizer, Jesus the Confirmer, had stood and received his Baptism, only a few hundred feet away. During all those years as an atheist and agnostic, Jesus followed me, even though I tried to walk away. Now as a Believer, I was following Him into the river where He had gone to save the souls of sinners like me. I prayed thanks and asked for the strength, for me and for others, to be faithful to the Sacramental covenants, starting with Baptism, that God calls all of us to make with Him.

Dipping, Dripping and Pickling

My day of dipping and dripping was not yet over. On the way back to Amman, I stopped at one of the public beaches by the Dead Sea. The Sea definitely deserves its reputation for saltiness. My lower legs and feet were coated with salt and I felt pickled. The seascape though was worth the risk of ending up in a sandwich. Across the bright, sun freckled sea, were the hills of the West Bank and over those hills, Jerusalem. This was the third time I had looked toward Jerusalem and the third time that I was unable to see it. When I flew from New York City to Amman on Royal Jordanian Airlines, the pilot announced “To your right is the holy city of Jerusalem.” Every face that could reach a window pressed the glass and I was stuck in the middle of the plane. When I looked from Mount Nebo, the skies were too cloudy.

Perhaps some day I will stand in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, where Jesus was crucified at Calvary, hopefully when there is true peace in the Holy Land. Whether or not I make it, I will still be a disciple, reborn in Baptism, sealed in Confirmation and strengthened and guided every day by Holy Communion and the other gifts of His Church.

This Easter, millions of adults across the world, like the man I am sponsoring at my parish of St Matthew’s Cathedral in Washington DC, will take their first joyful steps to discipleship, when they receive their Sacraments for the first time and enter into the Church, just as I did. As Jesus taught and lived, loving him means being like him by striving to lovingly and faithfully follow all of his commands, by answering his call to “Come, follow me.”

<< Read Part 1

Nathaniel Hurd is a 31-year-old advocate and policy analyst in the Washington DC office of a large international humanitarian organization. He focuses on the humanitarian crisis for Iraqi civilians in Iraq and the region. He writes in a strictly personal capacity and not on behalf of his organization.

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